


Sick Day

by sarcasticfluentry



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Pet Names, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4197330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfluentry/pseuds/sarcasticfluentry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek Morgan is temporarily promoted to Acting Unit Chief, he gets his own office and a new, complicated desk phone. He assures Garcia that he's not too old to figure out new technology, but it's certainly not <em>her</em> fault when she gets trapped into listening to her best friend talk dirty to her favorite baby genius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! This is my first CM fic. For those of you who are subscribed to me for that OTHER fandom, I assure you that I haven't abandoned my stories there and will be finishing all WIPs and still writing fic regularly for you guys. I just also really love Criminal Minds now and Spencer Reid has proven to be an elegant muse.
> 
> I guess this takes place during Season 5, then. There are two teeny-tiny little mentions of daddy kink, and Garcia has what I think is an appropriate reaction for normal non-depraved humans (myself not included, obviously).

“Hiya, boss-man!” Penelope Garcia chirps into her headset. “Enjoying the new office?”

There’s a groan from the other end of the line. “All those sweet-talkin’ pet names you got for me and you go with _boss-man,_ baby girl? That’s not me, that’s Hotch.”

“Yeah, well, I have to keep up appearances, I guess,” Garcia sighs sadly.

“Only for a little while, dollface, you know that,” Morgan tries to comfort her. “I’m not gonna get too comfortable in here. Although, I gotta say, Hotch has the most comfortable office chair I’ve ever tried.”

“Maybe you can take it with you when you switch back,” jokes Garcia. “Anyway, I’m just calling to make sure you don’t need help with anything in your new digs. Hotch’s desk phone is a lot more complicated than the ones in the bullpen.”

Morgan laughs. “That’s the _only_ reason you’re calling? I've got you on speaker now and everything, I think I'm gonna be alright. And here I thought you were callin’ ‘cause you loved me, not ‘cause you think I’m too old to understand how technology works. ”

“I _do_ love you, sugar, but if I really wanted to talk to you I’d leave my secret lair and venture into the magical realm of your new office,” Garcia says. “Unfortunately, I have too much work for that.”

“I hear you,” Morgan grumbles. “First day in here and I’m drowning in paperwork.”

“You could always give some of it to Reid,” says Garcia. “Speaking of which, how’s my junior g-man doing? JJ told me he called in sick.”

“Only after I forced him to go to the doctor,” laughs Morgan. “He, uh, he’s had a really hard time sleeping the past couple nights. Okay, that’s sugarcoating it - he hasn’t slept in three days.”

“Oh my goodness,” Garcia coos. “Is he okay?”

"He kept tellin' me it was just a side effect of that new medication he started for his headaches, but I finally convinced him to play it safe and take a day off to get it checked out."

"Good for you," says Garcia. "You know I like to make sure you're taking good care of our baby genius."

Morgan laughs. "He's in good hands."

"Oooh, tell me more," Garcia purrs, keeping a straight face for a couple seconds before they both burst into laughter. "Anyway, I should get back to work as long as you're all settled."

"Did my mama put you up to this or something?" Morgan chuckles. "It's all good, baby girl. We should both get back to work."

"Catch you later, sugar," chirps Garcia, clicking the button on her headset that ends the call. A _beep_ echoes over the line.

"You still there, baby?" Morgan asks.

Garcia frowns. She's already hung up from her end, but one of the annoying things about Hotch's phone is that he - or Morgan, now - has to press "end call" on _his_ console for the audio to stop transmitting to Garcia's headset. It's an extra security precaution, but it can get annoying when Hotch forgets and Garcia has to listen to the _crunch_ of him eating a salad until he eventually remembers.

"I'm still here," Garcia says. "You have to press the button on your end too."

"Yeah, that was Garcia," Morgan says.

Garcia frowns. What? "Chocolate Thunder, can you hear me, over?"

"Yeah, she was just checkin' up on me," Morgan continues, oblivious. "She thanked me for making you go to the doctor. See? Not just me that worries about you, pretty boy."

Garcia may not be a profiler, but it's not hard to deduce that Morgan's talking to Reid, most likely on his cell phone.

"Morgan, you have to hang up on your end," she tries again, losing hope that he can hear her.

Morgan laughs softly then says, "Ain't that the truth. Did you get called in to see her yet?"

Garcia sighs.

"So it was just side effects?" Morgan asks after a few seconds. A pause, then, "Spare me the lecture, kid, this is _not_ the time for 'I told you so.' You should really get in the habit of going to the doctor for stuff like that anyway. She give you a sleep aid or something?"

The corner of Garcia's mouth quirks up. Derek Morgan is the most protective person she's ever met, and _no one_ brings it out in him quite like his boyfriend does. Probably because Spencer Reid is so often in some kind of trouble.

There's a long pause, during which time Garcia considers walking to Morgan's office and pushing the damn button for him, but then Morgan says, "Yeah, I'm gonna be here for at least another couple of hours." A short pause. "Don't even _think_ about it, baby. The only thing you need to do is go home and take one of those sleeping pills. I'll pick something up on the way home and keep it in the fridge for whenever your brain decides to rejoin the world."

"Awww," Garcia murmurs, a big smile on her face now as she decides to let the conversation run its course and concentrates on some of her paperwork instead.

About ten minutes pass and Garcia listens to Morgan's end of the conversation as the two of them talk about their days and toss around some ideas for weekend plans. Garcia's surprised at how willing Morgan is to go to various museums and classical music concerts - but, to be fair, every time he agrees to one of Reid's ideas, he tries to convince the other man to go out dancing on Friday night. Unsurprisingly, Reid's idea of dancing seems to disagree with Morgan's.

Finally, Morgan says, "Good, good. I was getting a little worried about you driving in the state you're in." Then he laughs. "Hey, it's a totally valid concern! Doesn't matter anymore, though, so get inside and get some rest."

Just then, there's a knock on the door of Garcia's office. "Come in," she calls.

Rossi enters carrying a stack of files. Well, there goes her plan to visit Morgan's office and turn his phone off.

"Hey, Garcia," the older man greets her. "I was just going over some files for an old case, and I noticed that there's a three-week period for each victim that no phone records exist."

Garcia knows that Rossi tends to pore over his old unsolved cases when things get slow at the BAU, so she doesn't miss a beat when she replies, "The same three-week period?"

"No, a different one for each of the victims," Rossi replies. "It didn't strike me as odd before because none of the victims were exactly social butterflies, but I think it might be worth checking out."

"Of course," says Garcia. "How can I help?"

She'd forgotten that she was still on the phone with Morgan - or, really, that Morgan was still on the phone with her - so she startles a bit when Morgan murmurs, "Just try to relax for a bit, baby. They take a little while to work, don't they?"

"I need you to check if any of the victims had other means of communicating at the time," Rossi says. "It was a little early for cell phones, but if you're able to look at their work phones or any other lines they might've had, we might be able to find something."

"This is going pretty far back," Garcia remarks, looking at the date stamped on top of one of the files.

"Is it still doable?"

"Of course," Garcia preens. "Try to remember who you're talking to, Agent Rossi."

Rossi chuckles. "Of course."

Garcia starts on the first file as Rossi continues, "All of the victims lived alone, so we never figured out why they suddenly stopped communicating with people before they were killed. They never seemed to be doing poorly financially, but they might've had to cancel their landline service for some reason."

"Or someone cut their line," Garcia offers.

"True, true."

Just then, Morgan lets out a chuckle that sounds positively indecent. "You want me to help you relax, pretty boy? Yeah, I can do that."

Garcia's eyes go wide, but to her credit, she keeps her fingers moving on the keyboard.

"You on the bed?" Morgan asks. "Mmm. You know what I'd do if I was there?"

"I know it's a long shot, since records weren't well kept back then on this sort of thing," Rossi offers, making Garcia's mind boggle at how she's possibly going to deal with both of these things at once. She can't rip her headset off without seeming suspicious, since she's supposed to be wearing it at all times while in her office. And she can't tell Rossi what's going on, because she and JJ are the only people in the BAU who officially know about Morgan and Reid's relationship. (The others, being profilers, have probably guessed it, but the less the two men say about it, the better - especially where their unit chief is concerned.)

"God, yeah, I know you love that," Morgan purrs. "I fuckin' love your nipples, baby, love getting my mouth on 'em and making your back arch-"

"Sir, it looks like the first victim paid their phone bill even though they didn't make or receive any calls for that three-week period," Garcia says loudly, her voice a little higher than usual in a desperate attempt to drown out Morgan's low tone.

"Hmmm," says Rossi. "Check the next one, let's see if they were having financial trouble."

"I wish I could see you right now," Morgan says through the headset. "No, baby boy, don't get yourself worked up, just - yeah, go slow, roll 'em between your fingers like I do, get them hard for me."

Garcia swallows loudly and looks over the next file, wishing that Rossi would just leave her to it and let her call him when she's finished.

"Yeah, that's it, relax for me," Morgan murmurs. Then he chuckles. "No way, kid, I might have my own office but I'm not gonna risk _that._ This is all about you, alright?"

"N-no financial trouble for victim number two," Garcia stammers, suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar.

"Really?" Rossi asks. "Hmm. I still feel uncomfortable saying this is a coincidence."

"I - sir, why don't I, um - look through all of the victim's records and email any patterns I find to you?" Garcia asks. She prays her voice is steady.

"That's a good idea," Rossi says. "Thanks, Garcia, I owe you one."

He pats her on the shoulder. As he exits the office and Garcia hears the door close, she also hears Morgan say, "Mmm, you touching yourself? God, that's so hot."

"Sweet Jesus," Garcia mutters under her breath.

There's a pause. "Yeah, you know I love that," Morgan purrs. "Grip yourself tighter, wanna hear you - _yeah,_ baby, sound so good."

Garcia wonders exactly how inappropriate it is to get turned on by this.

"Can you - can you tug on your hair for me?" Morgan asks, finally sounding a little strained. "I know you love it when I pull your hair, pretty boy."

Garcia claps her hand over her mouth. Now that no one's in her office, she's technically free to take her headset off... but...

"Louder, louder, pretend I'm there." There's a long pause. "Was that what I think it was? _Damn,_ baby, you're gonna kill me."

It's getting to the point where Garcia almost wishes she hadn't sent Rossi away, just so she could have something else - anything else - to focus on.

"Easy, easy," Morgan murmurs. Then he chuckles. "I know mine feel better, but you're just gonna have to make do with your own for now, okay? Pretend it's mine - add another, alright, I'm right there with you, baby boy."

In a sudden burst of clarity, Garcia remembers gratefully that her go-bag has a change of panties in it.

"I bet it's tight," says Morgan. Garcia's mouth falls open and she starts heavy-breathing like that cat meme she found on the internet a few years ago. "Always so tight for me - _oh,_ that's how it's gonna be, is it? Always so tight for daddy."

"Oh my god," Garcia says out loud to the empty room.

"Don't know how you do it, baby, no matter how many times we do it it feels like the first time," Morgan says. "You up to three yet? No? Add another. God, you're gonna feel so good when this is over." There's a pause. "Of course you do now. Just - just imagine I'm there, right? Getting you ready for my cock."

It's only when Garcia tastes blood that she realizes she's been biting her lip.

"I know you love it," Morgan chuckles. "Can't get enough of it, can you? I - breathe, baby, breathe. Can you - wait, don't come yet, pull your fingers out." Then his voice drops even lower. "No, I'm not saying stop, I'm saying get on your hands and knees."

Garcia hadn't really been imagining any visuals for Reid's end of things - until now, that is, and it makes her simultaneously want to claw her eyes out and stick a hand up her skirt.

"All good?" Morgan asks. "I love when you're spread out for me like that, pretty boy. You can get back to it - _yeah,_ god, just imagine I'm there with you. Tell me how you feel."

There's a long pause then, and for the first time, Garcia can hear the faintest hint of noise from Reid's end, which says a lot about how loud he's gotten. There aren't any distinguishable words in there, either - but knowing Reid, it's probably because Hotch's desk phone doesn't have enough clarity to pick out audio coming from the cell phone. Morgan moans halfway through, low and husky and nothing like he sounds when he and Garcia are play-flirting.

 _"Shit,_ baby, you keep talkin' like that and it's gonna be hard not to bend you over this desk when you come back tomorrow," Morgan growls. A pause. "Oh, does it feel good? It should, 'cause I'm there with you, baby boy, I'm there with you and I'm gonna get so deep - yeah, sugar, curl 'em 'til you - _god,_ yeah. Always moan so pretty."

There's a pause, and Garcia isn't sure whether she's praying for it to be over or praying for there to be more. Then, Morgan chuckles darkly, and she realizes there's still more to come. Pun definitely intended.

"Know you love how big I am." Garcia chokes on air. "I know, baby, I know, but after you get some sleep I'm gonna give it to you so hard you'll have trouble walking tomorrow."

There's some more noise from Reid's end, then, "You want it like that? That's what I'd do if I was there, you know, reach around and jerk you fast like you like it. Then I’d pull your hair, maybe mark you up just under where people can see, and - what’s that? Oh, baby boy, I bet you are. Bet you’re so close, ‘cause it feels so good, doesn’t it? Tell daddy how it feels.”

Garcia wonders wildly if there’s some sort of psychological evaluation Morgan and Reid should be undergoing if they use that kind of language in the bedroom, but then she realizes that she should be undergoing that _same_ evaluation for finding it hot as fuck. Touché.

“Yeah, faster, go faster, make yourself come - shit, you’re right, _I’m_ the one making you come, I’m there behind you and you feel so _good -_ feel so good inside. God, Spencer, are you - _yeah,_ baby, that’s it. Shit.”

There are nail marks embedded in Garcia’s palms from how hard she’s been clenching her hands. The only sound she can hear now is her own unsteady breathing, the _whirr_ of the various computers in her office. She’s not entirely sure that she isn’t dreaming.

“You still with me, kid?” Morgan asks a minute later. Garcia makes a face; she knows Morgan’s been calling Reid ‘kid’ right from the start, but it seems a little weird to call him that after Morgan just got Reid off with his voice. “Good, now get yourself cleaned up and try to get under the covers before the meds kick in. What was that?” A pause, then Morgan laughs. “Baby, you’re already slurring, c’mon now. You don’t wanna fall asleep like that. I - alright. Yeah, I’ll leave in a couple hours. What do you - Thai? Okay. Love you too.”

Garcia hears the soft _beep_ of Morgan ending the call on his cell phone, and finally breathes a sigh of relief. He seems to be shuffling things around on his desk a bit, maybe getting it organized or something, and then Garcia hears a muffled scratching noise as he starts fiddling with the desk phone.

Then: “What the - oh, _shit.”_

The next thing Garcia hears is a door slamming, and she almost jumps out of her chair in fright, ripping the headset off and throwing it halfway across the room. She smooths her skirt down and pulls her hair back into a quick ponytail to get it off of her slightly sweaty neck, and quickly starts furiously typing away to 'find information' on one of the files Rossi gave her.

And not a moment too soon, because Derek Morgan bursts into her office mere seconds later.

Garcia jumps in only-slightly-fake surprise, clutching her chest. “Jesus, give a woman a heart attack, Adonis!”

Morgan doesn’t laugh like he usually does. “Hey, Garcia, have you, um - have you been wearing your headset? Like, since we - since you called me?”

Garcia turns around to face him fully, trying to make her face look sheepish and hoping she can fool a seasoned profiler. “Sorry, boss-man, I know I’m supposed to wear it all the time but it’s just so _itchy_ sometimes. It’s over there, I can put it back on if you want-”

“No, it’s fine,” Morgan says, relaxing visibly - almost comically. “And what did I say about calling me that?”

“Sorry, non-negotiable,” Garcia grins. “And I’m calling Hotch ‘Chocolate Thunder’ from now on. I don’t make the rules.”

Morgan laughs, relaxing even more. “Never change, baby girl. Never change.”

“Will do,” Garcia says, giving him a mock-salute as he waggles his eyebrows and exits her office.

When he’s gone, though, Garcia sinks back into her chair, eyes darting around the office for her go-bag as she tries to remember if her computer automatically records all calls coming from Hotch’s office.

**Author's Note:**

> ....bye


End file.
